For a Better Life

By Miguel Estrada

English is not the native language of the author, Miguel Estrada.
Reason why he felt the need to write in simple, easy reading, English language,
this mix of fiction / non-fiction, romantic, adventurous, book/novel.
He bases the fiction part of his book in one of his many love songs hes written.
Besides adding a little humor, he also explores how abandonment can sometimes haunt even the most successful among us.

In the non-fiction part, he likes to share with the world all the struggles and adversities he endured growing up as a multi racial child in a small village of the Atlantic Coast of his native Panama, in Central America. And all the difficulties he went through as he hitchhiked his way from his country to The U.S, not knowing for sure where he was going, let alone the English language.
He also speaks of the government corruption that goes on in his country and many other third world countries. Which compelled him to leave home in search of a better life for him and his family. He also emphasizes a great deal of gratitude, throughout his book.
But most of all, he emphasizes gratitude through the whole book.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 7, 2013
• ISBN: 9781477298749

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

A ll we need is one more push from you Rose, darling. One more push, please. We’re almost there!

It h . . . hurts, nurse Betty. Oh Lord . . . it . . . h . . . hurts a lot. This is the worse pain I’ve felt in my life. I will never let myself get pregnant again. Never, as long as I live! I think men should have the same kind of pain a woman has when she’s going through labor. It’s just not fair that we are the only ones to endure all this suffering!

I can’t help but agree with you, darling. But for now, all I can do is tell you to keep pushing. You’re doing fine. Push and stay calm, honey. Did anyone go to fetch your husband? Asked Betty all low and drawn out, after gazing at the doctor.

It seemed that between late August or early September of the year before, it had been a very good time for conceiving babies around that particular area, adjacent to that particular hospital. Because it seemed as early May was a very busy time as far as babies being born there. I think he should be here supporting you, Rose! Don’t you agree with me?

I don’t have a hu . . . husband, miss B . . . Betty, I haven’t g . . . got a, oh God! Oh God! Rose let out a wail produced by pain, powered by raw emotion. Emotion that hit Betty so fast, she barely had time to look up from between Rose’s legs.

Betty froze in position and stared as a sudden flood of the young woman’s panic and isolation overcame her. My God, thought Betty, this child has a power. It was as if the current created by the uninvited stream of emotions flowing mercilessly out of Roses being, and into Betty’s body, had momentarily drowned her. She quickly felt the need of forcing air into her lungs to resume authority of her body and her role.

Give us one more push, Rose, honey. Come on, one more, we can see the head already!

Oh I . . . I feel like I’m g . . . gonna pass out.

You can’t do that, Rose. We need you awake to help us deliver this baby, so hang in there dear!

I . . . I . . . I’m trying all I can, but . . . but, I don’t know if I can any more.

Be brave, Rose, honey, I know you can make it, so do you.

The nurse knew that her encouraging words would help this young, first time mother get through this ordeal. After a few minutes of Rose’s deep breathing and pushing, Betty was finally able to say. It’s a beautiful boy Rose, a very beautiful, baby boy! Looking down at that beautiful tiny being she was holding, crying between her hands.

Does he have all ten fingers? Rose inquired eagerly, trying to raise her head to take a peek at her new born baby boy.

All ten toes too. He also has a pear shaped birthmark the size of quarter under he left arm. It’s a little bit faded, but visible nevertheless. The nurse, Betty Brown, smiled as she answered the newly mother’s question and inspected the writhing and bawling little beauty at the same time.

Betty, herself, knew she would never have children and frequently experienced twinges of jealousy, while working her shifts on the maternity ward.

You can’t go around collecting children, like some folks collect cats. She would think to herself. But even her sensible nature was rarely enough to prevent her from having to conceal her personal vacuum under a cloak of postpartum efficiency.

But today, in order to shake off the spell of this particular delivery, she allowed herself to briefly cross that ever-present and dangerous boundary by pretending for a good solid minute, that this little baby she was holding in her hands belonged to her life and not her job. She finally managed to refill her lungs with a good breath of fresh air.

Still smiling, she then fully studied her hands in order to detach herself from the fantasy, before measuring the little one.

Her hands spoke the truth of her plus fifty years, and so many years of scrubbing them with the harsh powdered soap the hospital provided for the staff. Yet when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she knew most folks wouldn’t guess her age on the first try. Sure, she had a few gray hairs, but now-days, after she had oiled it and pulled it back tight, she would attempt to hide the worst patches by pushing them under the black hair with a spoon handle she kept on her dressing table.

Well then, there was also the spreading of her hips, for which no spoon handle or any other utensil, for that matter, could be of use. But she still retained her smallish frame though, and looked smart in her stiff nurse’s uniform and cap.

The old men playing dominoes in the park still tried to charm her. Occasionally whipped out a harmonica in hopes of stalling her with their talents. Aging Puerto Rican men from the barrio still stood up to beckon her yelling, Ey, ey!! Negrita! As she passed by, though she never stopped.

To her patients she was either God’s agent, or the Devil’s spy. She performed her nursing duties with a voice that mesmerized. Betty had a way of talking slow and drawn out, with a low timbre and powerful stare that hypnotized those she spoke to. It was as if she stared right past their eyes and into their worlds with defiance, amusement and absolute control. The sound of her voice immobilized her listeners and her gaze held them locked to her. Those holding shame and regret would drop them like a boulder and leave them where they fell, and yet empty felt unable to pick them back up without her knowing. Those nurturing happier memories would swell in their hearts and giggle while Betty’s eyes stayed fixed on theirs.

Betty’s patients knew few comforts. She was one of the nurses at a hospital for people with low income, or no income at all. Those for whom Lady Fortune had never bothered smiling upon. The hospital was housed in a building that screamed, Charitable Institution! and pulsed with the spookiness of a lone heartbeat on a battlefield. Even so, all the disrepair surrounding the hospital building actually made it the most comfortable at which to look in order to avoid eye contact with the rest of the street.

The hospital and everything around it was disturbing to anyone who resided in the world of the American Dream. Those from elsewhere, who didn’t hat to cope with poverty and hopelessness on a daily basis. To them, this neighborhood and everything in it was something to be purged by a stiff drink, a vigorous roll in bed with the spouse or a nice long vacation trip to the Bahamas.

Finish up here and meet me in delivery room number four, Betty. It seems like it’s going to be a very long morning.

Yes Dr. James, I’ll be over as soon as I get this lovely child clean and charted, drawled Betty in her unhurried, oddly unaccented manner of speaking.

As Betty was cleaning the baby, memories invaded her mind. Memories of the children she had planned to raise with her beloved late husband. Of the child she had once carried inside her, but the Good Lord never allowed her to have. Memories of all the newborn she had held in her hand while their mothers were being stitched back together by a doctor.

She paused for a moment as she admired the little biscuit of a boy in her hands and asked herself: How can this be? How can the Lord Almighty with his wisdom allow this to happen? Deny a woman like me, who has the economic ability to educate and feed a child, to steer him right and teach him to love God, deny me even one child of my own? Yet this poor woman lying there on that maternity bed, she has got the ability of giving birth to heaven knows how many!"

Is everything alright, Miss Betty? Rose shouted as she tried lifting her head to look in the direction of the table on which her child was being taking care of by Betty.

Oh yes dear, I’m just admiring one of God’s wonder. Of course Betty could not tell Rose what was going through her mind at that moment. So she lifted her eyes to Rose’s and asked. So you don’t have a husband, do you know who the father is?

Of course I do, I have no doubt in my mind. Responded Rose in a firm, defensive tone of voice, as she tried to push herself up once again to take a glance at her baby.

The reason I ask is because the baby doesn’t seen to be one hundred percent black.

Betty was thoughtful enough not to ask Rose if her pregnancy could have been the result of a rape or some wild party night.

He is not, can I see him?

You will, said the nurse. Be patient, you will see him soon. I want to make sure he is cleaned thoroughly. You see, he’s got lots of hair and when that happens, some of the vernix gets stuck on the baby’s hair and it has to be removed completely.

Thank you, Miss Betty.

Betty was stalling and she knew it, she was sure Rose was totally unaware of that.

Where is his father? Does he know you are giving birth today?

Betty was a little surprised by her own nosiness. She was unusually curious about people. Most of her curiosity about folks was a result of the habit she had cultivated through the years to substitute for a family of her own. But normally she didn’t ask many questions! Her natural style was rather that of a witness, listening and observing in silence, while analyzing the scene and the actors. After all, this girl’s life was none of her business. Although she had met Rose once before, singing at that one nightclub. She still couldn’t help but wonder what the story was behind this mixed child. Maybe the money Rose made as a singer was not enough and she needed to do some extra curricular activities to support herself, because Lord knows there were enough white men who would jump at the chance to roll around with a black woman. Especially an attractive one like Rose! And yet Betty had seen enough prostitutes in her career to sense that Rose had another story. True enough, there had been a sharp rise in the number of illegitimate children during the war years, as Betty had observed. She shook her head in resignation when she thought of all the women whom had given their young beaus the marital gift before they were shipped off to war. Most men promised to marry their girls when they returned. Unfortunately many of them did not return to the places from where they were usually drafted into the war’s most dangerous areas. Of the ones who managed to stay alive, many returned crippled and faced with the immediate need to take care of themselves, or to feed a family. There were also those who returned to scorn the woman they had promised them selves to, contemptuous of her having given herself so easily.

But the war was over now though, and mixed babies, that was something that begged questioning.

No, I haven’t seen him in months, at least seven or eight. He disappeared a month or so after I got pregnant. He had problems with Bob, the owner of the nightclub where I used to sing, the one where you met me Miss Betty. I don’t know what it was all about. All I know is that Bob kicked him out one night while I was on stage. That was the last time I saw him.

So I take it he doesn’t know you are, were pregnant?

"I wasn’t sure, so I couldn’t tell him.

You weren’t sure you were pregnant, or that he was the father?

I know he is the father. There’s no doubt in my mind. I’m not that way Miss Betty. I just wasn’t sure if I was pregnant or not. As you can see, this is my first time. There was certain air of defensiveness in Rose’s voice.

I understand! said Betty in a very sweet tone of voice, as she wrapped the baby in some newborn clothing. I’m not trying to cross examine you darling,

Betty paused as she kept asking to herself in silence. What in God’s name is going to be of this child? Will he grow to be an older person like me? Will he make it to adulthood or will he even see the sun in a few more weeks or months? How old are you child? You said you are not longer singing at that nightclub, how come?" Betty lifted her head and looked in Rose’s direction.

I was until three months ago when I couldn’t hide my belly any more. Rose’s tone of voice was noticeable less defensive this time.

You have a very beautiful voice, you know.

Thank you Miss Betty, but you know how it goes, me being a black woman, singing in a nightclub for mostly black folks and pregnant with a white man’s baby. It didn’t go very well with the owner, or anybody else in the club. Bob, the owner, he was still letting me sing background for some of the famous singers that performed at the club. I did background for Billie Holiday!

You sang background for-

-Yes ma’am, I did, I also sang for . . . ouch!

What’s the matter, dear?

I d . . . d . . . don’t know, I felt a poke in the lower part of my stomach, but it is gone now. Rose pressed her right hand against the lower area of her abdomen, as if looking for relief, but her anatomy was shifting and her hand sunk deep into the space recently occupied by her newborn baby.

That is normal, your contractions won’t completely stop until your uterus returns to its original size. Sometimes during birth you might suffer a small tear because of all the pushing, but that will heal up in no time. Do you want me to ask the doctor for some pain pills?

That’s okay, Miss Betty. I hate taking any kind of pills, unless the pain is very intense! Thanks anyways. I doubt they will let me go back to sing there again, Rose continued. Bob’s still mad at Jerry and I am the one who has to pay for that, besides who’s going to take care of my baby when I go to work? Rose paused for a moment and rubbed her belly. But, changing the subject, Miss Betty, what were you doing at the nightclub that night? When Rose tried once again to raise up to take a peek at the baby, Betty ordered her to stay put or the pain would increase. I haven’t seen you there again and besides you don’t seen to me like the kind of person who frequents those places!

I don’t, we were saying farewell to one of the nurses who was retiring. It was her daughter’s idea to go there. I’d never been inside that club before or since. I used to go to the Apollo and the Savoy from time to time, or some other places, with my late husband when he was alive. Who is this Jerry you were referring to?

Oh, Jerry Santini. He is the father of the baby.

He must be the white man you were talking about, the one who got kicked out of the nightclub, I take it?

Yeah, he is the one.

You never answered me, how old you are Rose? And what are you planning to do with this baby?

I just turned twenty a month ago, Rose then struggled to answer the last part of the question, but could not come up with an answer. She instead stared up at the ceiling with eyes wide open, as if hoping to find an answer in it, or in the room above or the one above it, or even heaven, if only her eyes were powerful enough. As far as the baby, she finally said. I’m not sure what I’m gonna do, Miss Betty. I don’t have a job. I really want to keep him more than anything in this world. This is my baby and I carried him inside me for nine months, you know. He is the greatest part of me and he’s all I got. I know you understand what I’m talking about Miss Betty.

A tear came out of each of Rose’s eyes, she hurried to wipe them with her hands. As far as the baby being all she had, it wasn’t far from the truth. Jerry had been the only and closest thing she had to a family, and he was only her boyfriend, or so called boyfriend. She had no idea of his whereabouts, nor even a clue of how to get in contact with him. Was he alive, was he dead? Was he even trying to get in contact with her? What would his reaction be when he found out about the baby?

All these thoughts went through Rose’s head in a fraction of a second. Her thoughts were so far from the room that she barely heard the last sentence of what Betty was saying to say to her.

I wish I could ask you to let me adopt him.

I’m sorry Miss Betty, did you say something?

I said I have an idea of what you’re going through, even though I could never have any children of my own. I think I know how hard it must be for you. I just wish I wasn’t this old, I would love to ask you to let me adopt him. Betty’s voice came out somewhat soft and sad.

Thank you Miss Betty. Rose recovered, you are very kind. I think I’m going to fight against all odds to raise my baby. I know it won’t be easy, that it’s gonna be an uphill battle, but with the help of the good Lord we are gonna make it. Even if it comes to doing whatever I have to do!

Betty was curious as to what Rose thought that might mean down the line, but decided not to ask, particularly since she doubted Rose knew for sure.

Well, here he is, all cleaned up, are you ready to see him? Betty walked up to Rose carrying the baby in her hands and with a big smile on her face.

Oh, Betty, he is beautiful! He has his father’s looks. Rose held the baby stiffly against her chest and wore the dazzling smile of a new mother meeting her child for the first time. She had never held a newborn child in her arms before. Her awkwardness was immediately visible to Betty, who realized at that moment she would have to teach Rose the essentials. How to hold the baby, change his diapers, feed him and burp him after he finished feeding.

He has your looks too, Rose. You are a very beautiful woman!

Thank you, Betty.

When Betty observed that Rose was beginning to feel overwhelmed, she left the room to find a bassinet. I’ll be right back, honey. Betty said, and left the room. A few minutes later she returned with a bassinet that although rocked due to a bent leg, it was still better than any other in the ward. She gently took the baby from Rose and squeezed him close to her before laying him down in his new bassinet.

Rose Williams was indeed a gorgeous woman. She stood about 5'6, with a body that turned heads. Envy of many women, desire by many men. With curves that could be compare to any of the most dangerous country roads of her native Arkansas. Medium size breasts, as firm as the rest of her whole ebony body, which was of course somewhat distorted by her pregnancy. Her face however, was still beautiful as smooth molasses cookie colored skin and high cheekbones, with expressive brown eyes, gave her the appearance of tribal nobility. Her semi afro hairstyle made her look about three or four inches taller than she really was. Lips as full and fruity as fresh picked cherries. In general she had a lot going for her as far as looks. No high school diploma, very little education. In fact, she could read and write just enough to get by.

She was born in a very small town in the southern part of Arkansas, but her parents packed up tiny Rose and moved away when she was barely three weeks old, after the Mississippi and Missouri Rivers had reached flood level. Along with them, they took every household and farm possession they had acquired during their short marriage. Every personal item, such as blankets, pillows, griddle and kettle, all their farm implements, shovels, hoes. It all fit in the back of their small farm wagon, with just enough room left for Rose’s bed.

They still had the rough wood crate from the brand new saddle Rose’s father, Micah, had bought shortly after their wedding, when he was only 17 years old, with the money he had saved doing odd jobs plus a few dollars they received from his father as a wedding present. In this crate Rose’s 16 year old mother, Mimi, made a cradle for her, by padding the inside with dry grass and wrapping the dried grass with a blanket. She had her husband nail a broomstick to the crate so she could reach around and rock the makeshift cradle while she rode alongside Micah. They brought with them two of their four chickens and the middle-aged horse, Old George, which was given to then by Mimi’s uncle when they got married, as a gift for all those years Micah had helped him on his farm. The other two chickens, the four pigs and the milk cow they sold to one of their neighbors, George, after whom Mimi’s uncle had named their horse. George was the wealthiest Negro they knew, they knew that with a three week old baby and two swelling rivers, no white folks would have give them a fair price. On the contrary, they would have tried taking advantage of their situation.

On the way to Little Rock, there were several occasions when Rose’s father Micah, had to hand the reins of the wagon to his young wife and get off to help Old George pull the wagon, due to the thick mud resulting from the constant rains.

It was a hard and mitigating journey, but fortune was on their side. Because as they made their way to the city, fighting the elements and often having to stop to give way to trucks and automobiles. The Mississippi and the Missouri spilled half the world’s water on southern Arkansas, killing hundreds and sending over 200,000 survivors in search of a dry rock on which to rest their head.

Bud Rose never got to know Little Rock. Shortly after arriving in Pulaski County, Micah caught wind of trouble in the city. As they neared a small segregated town, they heard the church bell ringing. By the time they pulled up to the church, the yard was full of worried black people. Micah told Mimi to stay in the wagon while he went to talk with the townsmen.

Where you commin’ from son? One of the men asked Micah.

I’m commin’ from the south with mah family. Goin’ to Little Rock, answered Micah to the tall old man with a deep voice sporting a thick gray beard and wearing an old straw hat.

It seems a man named Will Carter tried to rape a white woman in Little Rock. The man said to Micah.

It was well known to everybody in town that Will Carter was a mentally challenged man, but a posse was formed anyway. When they found the mentally distorted man, he was hiding on top of a tree. They lynched him and shot him numerous times as he dangled from a rope. They then dragged his body behind a pickup truck, and finally, set him on the streetcar tracks, doused him with gasoline and burned his remains before a cheering crowd of about 2,000 white folks. When there was nothing else to burn, the mob set off to the colored districts in hope that Negroes would try to defend themselves while the mob rioted through their neighborhoods. But the black folks hid in terror, knowing full well that any kind of resistance would be met with full-scale slaughter. After all, it had been less than ten years since the whites over in Elaine, went on a murderous rampage that lasted a week. When it was all over, 12 colored folks who had fought back were convicted and case closed.

Oh no, you don’t wanna go to Little Rock now, son, the old man went on telling Micah, not with all that’s goin’ on over there!

There was a bustle and discussion between the husbands and wives in the church grounds and decisions were made. The women took over the wagon and drove Mimi and Rose to a small farm about two miles from town. Micah stayed at the church and joined the men’s meeting.

Two weeks later with full stomachs, Micah, Mimi and baby Rose set off for the hills with the name of the deacon’s brother written on a small piece of paper, that neither of them could read.

When Rose was about 16 years old, after her mother died, her father married a woman with whom Rose couldn’t get along. So at the tender age of 17, she set off for New York in search of an aunt she never found. She had dreams of doing something with her beautiful voice; it was then when she met Jerry. She worked very hard trying to get rid of her strong southern accent, since she didn’t like it when people made fun of it.

Well, I have to get going. Like Dr. James said, there are a lot of babies to be delivered this morning! One of the other nurses will be stopping by shortly to give you a hand with your linens and your bath. In the meantime, you go ahead and feed the baby. He must be hungry. I guess all I have left to say is, good luck to you and the baby. By the way, what name are you going to give him?

I’m not sure yet. I thought of naming him after my father. But he wasn’t very supportive of me after my mother died and he married that mean woman. Now, Jerry’s middle name is Anthony, so I’ll probably call him that, for now.

Well then, let the records show, that on May 3rd of 1947, Miss Rose Williams gave birth to a beautiful baby boy named, Betty paused for a few seconds, Baby boy, she nod of strength. Wishing, she could send some much needed luck along with it. Oh, please good Lord, look after that young mother and her child. Betty whispered to said sweetly as she exited the room. Turning one last time to offer Rose a smile and a herself as she walked away.

Meanwhile, in a different part of town; in one of the most prestigious hospitals of the city. Hospital where only the wealthy, those to whom Lady fortune blesses with an eternal smile from ear to ear. Place people like Rose, don’t even know exists.

With a full team of some of the best doctors and nurses, money can buy, Mrs. Pat O’Hara, wife of Jim O’Hara, gave birth to their first and only child.

It’s almost over Pat. All we need is just one more push or two and we’ll be home free. What are you and Jim hoping for?

I . . . I’m . . . I’m hoping for a, b . . . baby girl. My h . . . husband for a boy. Pat had to try hard to force the words out of her mouth. Fists clutched to her sides, as she followed the doctor’s instructions.

Well, guess what? You have won. It is a beautiful girl! Do you have a name picked out for her? Asked the doctor.

Cassandra,’ spelled with two s.

"It’s a beautiful name, Pat, I love it! Are you guys going to call her Casey, for short?

After a deep breath of relief, Pat finally managed to say. That sounds good, doc. I haven’t thought about it. But, since you are going to be her Godfather, I guess you have just given your Godchild and niece a nickname, as a birthday present!

Should I go get Jim? Asked Bill O’Hara, Pat’s doctor and brother-in-law, as he handed the little baby girl to one of the nurses to get her cleaned up.

Oh, no, Bill, you know your brother, you know how he gets at the sight of even a drop of blood around him. That’s the reason why you see my mother here with me instead him!

You’re right Pat. I totally forgot about that. It’s funny, a man like Jim with such a strong character, getting sick at the sight of a little drop of blood. I remember once when I was in med school. I brought home a piece of anatomy from a cadaver in a small box. Jim thought it was something else and opened it. Boy, he had to run for the bathroom with his hands over his mouth. Before he made it to the toilet, his breakfast and lunch were all over the floor!

Bill O’Hara was a very prominent obstetrician. An Irish descendant, second generation, he graduated with honors from one of the most prestigious universities of the country. He was the older and only sibling of Jim O’Hara, Pat’s husband and Casey’s father.

Pat was a very attractive woman, also of Irish descend, well educated, about 5'5, red hair, green eyes, beautiful profile and very sweet character, with a great compassion for all people. Some said that was the main reason why she didn’t start having kids earlier. She was already 32 years old and had been married to Jim for almost 8 years. Instead she had spent most of those years raising funds and spending her husband’s money, caring for the less fortunate people of the world. Between fundraisings, constant visits to hospitals and charitable institutions, trips to third world countries and many other charitable commitments, she had hardly had any time to dedicate to a child of her own. Now that one had finally arrived, she knew she would have to slow down somewhat.

Mother. Pat called.

Yes, honey?

If the baby is all cleaned up, can you please go get Jim for me? I want both of us to see her at the same time. Please don’t tell him if is a girl or a boy. I want him to find out on his own.

Okay darling, Pat’s mother headed for the waiting room.

Jim was a very well known, 35 year old businessman. A multimillionaire, who along with his brother had inherited a sizable fortune from their parents. Only that, Jim, with his great aptitude for business and his intelligence, multiplied his part of the fortune many times over. About 6'1, 235 pounds, with blond hair, blue eyes, average looking with a very strong character. Like his brother, he had also attended one of the best universities.

Is it a boy or a girl, Martha? Jim asked to his mother-in-law all full of excitement. He considered this the greatest, the happiest day of his entire life. A little piece of him was just a few rooms down the hall, waiting for him to come see him or her for the first time. He could practically hear his heart pounding of joy inside his chest. He was the kind of man who usually didn’t show a great deal of emotion, but this wasn’t just any daily event! It was the birth of his offspring, the inheritor to his fortune; the reason why many men and women live for.

I’m not supposed to tell you Jim, I promised Pat. The delivery room is just right around the corner.

Martha took her son-in-law gently by the hand and walked him to the delivery room. But before they were able to exit the waiting room. Can you tell us, Martha? Martha’s husband Ray, and Carl, the O’Hara’s driver, asked in unison. They were there keeping Jim company.

I will come back to get you two in a bit, when Pat and the baby are ready to receive you guys. Or when there are more people allowed in the delivery room. It won’t be long I promise! Said Martha softly, as she exited the room with Jim.

Hello, my gorgeous, beautiful wife. How are you doing? How is the baby?

She is over there, all cleaned up waiting for you, we are both fine, darling.

It’s a girl! That is wonderful honey, just what you wanted!

Yes, but you wanted a boy, honey, aren’t you a bit disappointed? Pat looked into her husband’s eyes as if waiting for hint of disappointment, but there wasn’t any. Instead his eyes brightened more yet.

Me disappointed honey? No way, who cares about boys? They are nothing but trouble, anyways! Besides, you are the one who carried her for nine months. She has all your looks, honey, something I should be thankful for. They laughed.

Are you sure you’re not disappointed, honey?

No doubt in my mind, thank you honey! Thank you, very much. If I loved you before, now I love you even more, as much as I love our little Cassandra. You just made me the happiest man alive, for the second time.

Casey, little brother, Casey! Dr. Bill O’Hara corrected Jim with a smile. He wanted to make sure his younger brother knew that his daughter already had a nickname.

Thank you brother, thank you everybody. I believe the last time I got drunk was my senior year of college. But, this, this calls for a celebration!

Don’t start without me, Jimmy, my brother!

I second that! Pat’s mother joined the excitement.

Let the records show, that on this beautiful spring morning of May 3rd, 1947, in the city of New York, came into this world the most beautiful girl in the world and the future first woman president of the United States of America! Jim exclaimed.

Those are the words of a very proud father, said Dr. O’Hara. Do you think this country is ready for a woman president, little brother?

Well, it better be, it better be!

Even though Jim was hoping for a boy, if there was even a tinge of disappointment in him, he did not show it. There was nothing but a radiant look of joy on her face. He started passing out expensive cigars to everyone in the room, and anybody who happened to be walking by outside the room.

I’m going to love her, well I already do, with all my heart. I’ll spoil her rotten and take her everywhere I go. I will guide her the way my parents did with my brother and me. I’ll show her to the world. I want everybody to know that this is the daughter of Jim O’ Hara, prominent businessman of Irish descend. Jim thought to himself, as he held his daughter in his arms. He kissed her, looked up to heaven and said quietly. This is your granddaughter Mom and Dad. Please protect her always from up there.

He would have liked to name the baby Catherine, after his late mother. But the agreement between him and his wife was: if it was a girl, Pat would pick the name and if it was a boy he would choose.

As Jim directed his eyes back at the baby, he couldn’t help but remember some of the stories his father, Sean, used to tell to him and his brother when they were younger.

Stories about all the hardships his parents had to endure coming to this country. Especially Sean, having to do hard labor in the boat they came, in order to pay their way, because the little money they had to eat and pay for their tickets. Money they had saved for so many years to realize their dream, was stolen in the boat, one night as they slept.

They got to America, hungry, with no money and no place to stay. Sean’s wife, Catherine was 4 months pregnant with their first child, but she lost the baby because of complications due to a pneumonia she caught from sleeping in the rain. But they were young and high-spirited, which helped them endure this and many further ordeals.

Sean was very fortunate to find a job with a carpenter making furniture, soon after they set foot in America. The owner of the shop, also Irish, allowed them to sleep in the shop as an exchange for keeping an eye on things at night.

Jim also remembered his father telling him that one night he had to defend himself against two intruders. Luckily for him he was a pretty good-sized man, who like many Irish men, knew how to use his fists.

Is something wrong with the baby, honey? inquired Pat.

No, she is perfect, darling. I’m just admiring how beautiful she is!

.

"Well, I have another delivery in a few more hours. I guess I better go get some rest.

Congratulations Jim and Pat! I’ll be stopping by your house sometime next week to see how the family is doing, especially the new addition!" The Dr. waved good-bye and left the room.

Do that Bill, in fact, don’t make any other plans, because I’ll be calling you to let you know what day we will be having a big party to celebrate little Casey’s arrival. Said Jim sporting a smile that reached from ear to ear.

And so on that warm spring morning, in the same city, but in different worlds. Two children, one joyfully awaited for by the parents, and the other one not quite so, came into the world.

CHAPTER 2

There was a knock on Rose’s door around 11:30 on a mid-spring evening. She had already turned in for the night, and her little boy had been lying fast asleep next to her.

Who can it be at this time of night? Rose wondered. Although a bit apprehensive, she opened the door any ways.

Jerry Anthony Santini! Where in God’s name have you been? You know it has been over four years? Almost five? Just when she was about ready to give up waiting for him, Jerry reappeared out of nowhere.

Rose had received many proposals of men wanting to date her, live with her, even marry her. However she had been waiting all those years, for the man she loved, the father of her child. But even though she had waited for him all these time, she was not quite ready to receive him with open arms. Rose made him wait at the door, like she would any stranger, or any salesperson knocking at her door. After all these years, you better come up with a very good explanation, if you want me to even think about letting you set foot in my home! Rose said with firm tone of voice.

Jerry had to wait a little before he was able to answer. He put both hands in his front pockets, looked to the left of the hallway, then to the right. This made Rose look too. He took a quick glance at the floor, then he looked at Rose straight in the eyes, took a deep breath, and then in a nonchalant way he said. Oh, here and there!

Where is that? Rose crossed her arms under her chest as she steadily returned his gaze.

It’s a long story Rose, honey. Can I please come in?

I have all kinds of time to listen. Rose replied trying to keep her voice low as she moved aside to let Jerry in.

Why are you whisp-? but before Jerry could finish.

-Who is it mommy? A young child’s voice startled Jerry. He jerked his neck so violently it almost snapped, in the direction of the bedroom from where the voice was coming. His eyes almost popped out of their sockets. The whole world stopped spinning at that moment for him. He was in state of shock assuming Rose was still his woman, still single. Reason why there shouldn’t be any child calling her mommy.

That was Baby Boy’s voice coming from the small and only bedroom of the apartment in which he and his mother lived.

There was hardly any furniture, in the bedroom, just one small bed in which they both slept. Next to it, by the window, an old oak dresser. There was no wall dividing the living room from the kitchen, which was sparsely furnished with a small kitchen table and two chairs, an icebox and an old gas stove in a corner. There was an old brown couch against the wall by the door. To the right of the bedroom, there was a small bathroom with some of the floor tiles missing. The bathroom door hung just by the two lower hinges. An old rusty color carpet covered the floor, which by its look it hadn’t been replaced in ages.

It’s your daddy honey, go back to sleep now. You’ll see him in the morning.

Daddy? Who in the hell is that kid and why are you saying I’m his dad? I’m nobody’s dad! Jerry exclaimed in ratter loud voice.

Lower your voice for God’s sake! Demanded Rose.

How can you be sure he’s my kid? How old is he?

He’s almost four, and yes, I am 100% sure he is your kid. I haven’t got a single bit of doubt in my mind and you shouldn’t either for the same reason!

Weren’t you involved with John while I was still around?

You mean John Wilson, Bob’s son? Get serious Jerry, for heaven’s sake. Rose showed how irritated she was by waving her hands in front of Jerry’s face, as she drilled at him with piercing eyes. She crossed both arms under her chest once again. I never got sexually involved with John or anybody else while I was seeing you. Never! That is something you, as a man, should have noticed. That John liked me, that was totally beyond me. All I did was try to be polite with him all that time, to be on his good side, as his father is the owner of the nightclub. But to be frank, I did it mostly because of you, as you know well, neither John, nor his dad like you. I never . . . Rose kept her eyes fixed on Jerry’s,  . . . cheated on you, Jerry, never. Her voice was no longer soft or low as it was when Jerry first walked in her apartment. She felt her feelings hurt by the only man she had ever loved. Her eyes were wide open as she stared straight at Jerry, lashing at him through her wounded expression.

Jerry lowered his head and kept quiet for a moment as if trying to gather his thoughts.

He already knew what he had in mind. After going to the bedroom and taking a glance at the kid, who was already back to sleep, he came back over to Rose and said. Okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry honey for being so hasty. I guess he could be my kid. What you want me to do?

Well, for starters, he needs a name. Those words by Jerry helped restore calm in Rose. She showed it by again lowering the tone of her voice.

What do you call him? He is a handsome little guy. I want you to realize, this took me totally by surprise. I hope you understand what I’m talking about, Rose, honey. I’ve been gone for so long and had no idea you were pregnant with my child when I left! Why didn’t you tell me?"

I didn’t tell you was because I wasn’t sure I was pregnant, first time you know! I named him Anthony after you, but I call him Baby Boy. That’s the name the nurse gave him at the hospital.

Baby Boy, I like Baby Boy, said Jerry with both hands still in his front pockets and studying the floor.

That’s not a name! Rose voice sounded firm and snappy once again. I’ve been waiting for you all this time to give him a good Christian name!

Well, we’ll think of one, I promise you, but for now I want you to listen to what I have to say Rose, darling. Jerry gently grabbed Rose’s wrists and pulled her closer to him. But he stopped pulling when he noticed some resistance. Still with both hands holding her wrists Jerry said, I have great news for both, I mean, for all of us.

What is it? Rose eyes got wide open. But first, are you going to tell me where in the world you’ve been all this time? The last time I saw you was that night Bob kicked you out of the bar while I was singing. I saw it all from the stage. When I finished performing, I asked everybody what happened and where you were, but nobody would tell me anything. So, what happened that night and where have you been all this time?

You know how Bob and John are about white folks. Even though about, 40% of their customers are white, when it comes to a white man dating one of their employees, that’s where they draw the line. They sure didn’t like the fact that I was seeing you. Bob let me know a time or two. I guess it came to a point when they didn’t tolerate me any more, so they kicked me out!

Jerry wasn’t telling Rose the whole truth. He had been caught dealing drugs inside the nightclub. Not that Bob, the owner, and his son, John, were any saints, but that was actually the main reason they had kicked him out of, Harlem’s Nights. As far as where I’ve been, Jerry lowered his head and once again, studied the floor, and scratched the back of his neck at the same time, I was in uh . . . uh the L.A. County jail.

Rose took a moment to walk up to her bedroom, took a peek to make sure her son was already back asleep.

L.A? Where the heck is that, and what were you doing in jail? Rose voice went back to being dry as before, though not as loud.

That is in California, Rose honey, L.A. is the abbreviation for Los Angeles.

What were you doing in California?

Well, after the incident with Bob and John, I went to California because I know—umm . . . you remember Bob’s ex-partner, Joe Johnson? I don’t believe you do. You weren’t singing at the club yet. Anyways, he has a nice outfit in LA. So I went to see him and find out if I could get some gigs for you. But before I had the chance to talk to him, I had a running with the police, end of story. I just got out two weeks ago, I stopped to see Joe right after I got out to tell him about you. He wants you to come sing for him at his nightclub. I mentioned to him how great you sing and how beautiful you are. He owes me a big favor. So, there is work waiting for you and for me the minute we get there. He even gave me money to buy our bus tickets back, but he wants us there as soon as possible. So, what you think about that honey? You wanna go to the west coast with me? It is always green and warm, no snow!

West coast! I thought you said you were in California, Rose said naively.

Honey, California is on the west coast! Jerry hid a chuckle by covering his mouth with his hand.

Oh, I knew that.

So, do you like my plan?

Yes I do, I think I’m ready to get out of New York anyways. Can you give me at least a little time to think about it? They were still standing next to the couch as the conversation went on, Rose sat down, and Jerry sat too, next to her.

We don’t have much time, Rose honey. We need to leave here tomorrow.

What do you mean tomorrow? Remember, there are three of us!

Three of us, those three words did not sound good to Jerry and his plans. There was a long silence. He needed to think of something, and quickly. He had a pretty sharp mind, to bad he never thought of using it for something good. Putting the gearbox in his head to work, he locked looks with Rose for a few seconds, studied the ceiling for a short while, then looked out the window into the dark night. All he could see was a neon sign across the street reading, welcome, open 24 hours. Suddenly, as if that sign had illuminated his brain, he began to talk again, clutching Rose’s wrists with his hands like handcuffs. Listen honey, you know how much I love you, that I would do anything for you. He stopped for a few seconds and locked looks with Rose once again. Anything to make you happy. But, you see, the kid is going to be a burden for us and—

-What do you mean by a burden? That’s my son, and I don’t wanna leave without him! Rose cut him off, yanking her wrists out of Jerry’s hand and backing away from him.

Don’t worry, honey, remember he is my son too, and I want the best for him and all of us. We’ll come up with something, I assure you, we’ll work something out!

‘He is my son too,’ sounded very sweet in Rose’s ears. Jerry new Rose very well, they had known each other since that day when he was stopped by a 17 year old, beautiful black girl, as he was coming out of the nightclub, to ask him for directions. Jerry knew which buttons to push in order to get his way with her. But, he also knew this time wasn’t going to be easy, like it used to be. But, if there was someone who knew how to get his way with words, (especially with members of the opposite sex,) it was Jerry Santini. He was 28 years old now, brown eyes, light brown hair, combed back, 6'2, just over 200 pounds. A bit muscular, with a very nice profile. Despite being in jail on numerous occasions and all of the drugs, cigarette and alcohol. His face still retained that natural youth and good Italian looks.

Rose loved Jerry indeed. What did she see in him besides his good looks? That was a question to be answered. It was probably the fact that, he was her first man and he had treated her decently the whole time they were together and he had never tried to get her into doing all those bad vices he enjoyed.

He was the one who discovered her beautiful singing voice and helped her get her that singing job at Harlem’s Nights.

Jerry was the nocturnal type, sleeping during the day and hustling at night for any kind of money he could get his hands on.

You know honey, it’s past midnight and I’m tired. Even though I am usually a night person, the long trip has exhausted me. Can we please get some sleep? Do you mind if I crash here?

As you can see, there is only one bedroom, one bed and Anthony is sleeping in it. Rose agreed, for she was also tired, her tone of voice was visible less hostile now. Due maybe to Jerry’s words of reassurance; embarrassed perhaps because of how little she had, as she looked around, or a maybe a combination of both.

I guess the couch is gonna have to do. Jerry moved closer to Rose. Noticing that she didn’t make any attempt to move back, he moved even closer.

It’s a big couch. I think we both can fit!

Jerry was sitting on the end of the couch closest to the door. He put his left hand, on the back of Rose’s neck, and left it there waiting to see if she would show any kind of negative reaction. But, since there wasn’t any, he proceeded to run his hand up and down, all the way from the top of her head, down to where her neck meets her shoulders.

Jerry needed for everything to go right that night, he wanted to make Rose feel like she did their very first time. He started to remember that one clear warm summer night, as he walked out of Harlem’s Nights, and saw Rose walking up to him. She wore a below the knees, white and